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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879381">Happiness Is (More Than Just) A Warm Gun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo'>Dr_Wahoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Also mild violence against unnamed robots, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Humor, One-Shot, Quintessons (mentioned) - Freeform, Rated teen for characters swearing like sailors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:40:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket is an expert at guns. If there’s a gun out there, he knows it. He might’ve even shot a few people with it. So, it’s a surprise when he comes across a gun he’s never seen before... much less one that talks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happiness Is (More Than Just) A Warm Gun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">          Lights flickered overhead, throwing shadows over the dingy gray hallway. Clattering machinery echoed in the distance. The air reeked of oil, grease and other unnamed chemicals. Rocket grimaced as his tail swept up dust and grit from the floor. “Why’s this place so dirty?” he grumbled. “These assholes have gotta be filthy rich. Can’t they afford a janitor or somethin’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot,” Groot suggested, ambling behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I</span> <span class="s1">get</span> <span class="s1">they don’t want people pokin' around or whatever. It’s just — these types are usually neat freaks. They wanna be as ‘efficient as possible,’ y’know?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...fair enough, buddy. Though I don’t think anyone knows too much ‘bout these guys. What’re they called again? Quinte-whats-its?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am—”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Rocket’s ears perked up. “Shh!” he hissed, waving a hand. </span> <span class="s1">They stood in silence. Then, thumping footsteps sounded from around the corner. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both flattened themselves against the wall. Groot crouched, bristling twigs and thorns all over. Rocket swung his rifle over his shoulder. They waited as the footsteps drew closer. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">         They didn't have to wait long. Soon, several </span>
  <span class="s1">stocky figures came lumbering around the corner. They towered over even Groot, with broad shoulders and torsos. Bare metal shone through scratches in their garish green paint. But most striking of all were their faces. Two red eyes glowered above each gaping, fish-like mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">         Rocket’s finger froze on the trigger. “The hell...?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Those faces swiveled towards them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...I am Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a sudden flurry of movement. Metal plates shifted and expanded as one the robots rearranged itself on all fours. Then, it charged forwards. It hurtled towards them, snapping massive crocodilian jaws. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit!” Rocket fired off a shot, leaping back. It seared into the robot’s side and spewed crackling sparks from the wound. The robot howled and dropped to the ground, skidding to a halt inches from his nose. Its eyes flickered before going dark.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You saw that, right?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot body-slammed the other two robots. He grappled them with vines, dodging the spikes jutting out of their arms and shoulders. “I am Groot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’d it turn from that into <em>that?!"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">  </span> <span class="s1">“I am Groot! I am </span> <span class="s2">Groot!<span class="s1">”</span></span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m tryin’, dammit! Get ‘em away from you so I can take a clear shot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I... am... Groot!” </span> <span class="s1">His vines slammed both robots into the wall. Rocket fired several times into one’s chest. It slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap. The other wrestled free from the vines, barreling straight towards him.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket dodged around its giant feet, rolled out of the way and shot it in the back. It staggered. That gave Groot time to crack his vines like a whip into the smoking wound. The robot fell to one knee, and a final shot sent its head clattering to the floor. A headless body came crashing down seconds later.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot withdrew his vines, binding them back around himself. “I am Groot?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” Rocket grunted, wiping his brow. “You?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot. I am Groot?” He waved at the sparking bodies scattered over the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No flarkin’ clue. Nova didn’t mention </span> <span class="s2">this</span> <span class="s1"> in the briefing, and I ain’t seen no thing like ‘em around.” Rocket approached the severed head, kicking it onto its side. He kneeled down and peered inside its smoking neck. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...fine,” he grumbled, standing back up. “But we’re grabbin’ it on our way back out! I wanna crack it open, see what makes it tick.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nova can’t confiscate what she doesn’t know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot’s frown deepened, but he lowered an arm anyways. Rocket clambered up and hoisted himself onto a wooden shoulder. “Whoever these guys are, they make damn good shit... and damn dangerous shit, too. No wonder they’re sellin’ it like crazy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot,” Groot reminded him, striding for the corner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...yeah. Don’t think Nova’d have us shut ‘em down if they weren’t sellin’ to—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They rounded the corner. Standing in the middle of the hall was another robot, folded into its quadruped form. It snarled like rolling thunder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—maniacs?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before either of them could react, the robot charged into Groot’s torso. The impact flung Rocket from his friend’s shoulder. He tumbled head over tail, sprawling onto the ground. Groaning, he lifted his head in time to see Groot fly into a wall. Chipped bark and splinters showered the floor below him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Groot!” Rocket staggered to his feet, reaching for his rifle. His fingers curled around its grip the moment the robot, drawn by his cry, lunged at him with open jaws.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He scrambled back far enough that those jaws didn’t close around his body. His rifle, however, was not so fortunate. The bulk of its barrel disappeared behind giant, triangular fangs. Cracks split through its metal. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let go of my krutackin’ gun, you shitty dinosaur ripoff!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I... am Groot?” Groot asked from his place on the floor, still groggy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Terran thing! Blame Quill!” Rocket snarled, ears pinned back as he yanked and yanked on his rifle. The robot growled low and refused to let go, instead drawing the rifle further into its maw — and Rocket with it. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You wanna eat, huh?! Eat </span> <span class="s2">this!” </span> <span class="s1">He squeezed the trigger. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A muffled explosion sounded inside its mouth. Its eyes blew out, belching smoke from the shattered sockets. The whole robot spasmed and clenched its jaw. With a </span> <span class="s2">crunch,</span> <span class="s1"> the rifle in its maw disintegrated into jagged metal fragments. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...flark.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">More robots skidded around the corner. Some transformed into bipedal mode and others balled their hands into fists. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flark!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket drew his blaster from his hip, firing off several rapid shots. All of them pinged off the robots’ plating. They continued their charge right towards him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flarkin’ <em>hell!"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A hand closed around his waist. Rocket thrashed, pummeling it with his fists until he realized he was pummeling wood. Groot hugged him close to his chest and bolted. Pounding footsteps and growls dogged their frantic run down the hall. </span> <span class="s1">Then, as everything seemed to get too close, Groot’s feet swerved to the left. He dove through an open doorway and into a bright, sterile room. Rocket squinted against the sudden glare in time to see the robots skid past the door. As they wheeled around, he fired his blaster at the door controls.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door crashed shut. Several thuds followed, the walls shaking with the force of them. Dust even rained down from the ceiling. But the door didn’t open — not yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket forced the fur on his back to relax. “You — you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot lowered him until his feet touched the ground. “I am Groot. I am Groot?” he asked, his voice soft but no less urgent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. For now, ‘till they bust that door down.“</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I </span> <span class="s2">am </span> <span class="s1">Groot?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just a few charges and my blaster. We need the charges for the mission, and my blaster — flark, that thing didn’t even make a dent. Flark!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am... Groot?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno! I can’t do shit against ‘em now, and you’re still hurt!” Rocket growled, jabbing a finger at his friend’s chest. Cracks ran through the warped and splintered wood. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No, we can’t! Signal jammers, remember? The place’s loaded with ‘em. There’s no way we can call up Quill or the others. We’re stuck in this stupid room ‘cause </span><span class="s2">I’m</span><span class="s1"> stupid</span> <span class="s1">and we can’t do—!”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The door rattled, making them both jump. Rocket’s tail bristled. After a moment, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning. </span> <span class="s1">A hand landed on his shoulder. “I am Groot.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know... I know. ‘M not leavin’ you either.” Rocket dragged his hands down his face, forcing his shoulders to relax. He blew out a sigh. “We’ll figure a way outta this. Just like ol’ times, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot smiled. He nodded, giving Rocket’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Guess we better get started in here, get lookin’... for...”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">As he turned around, Rocket trailed off. He came to a few realizations. One: his initial impression of the room was correct. It </span> <span class="s2">was</span> <span class="s1"> sterile, with metal tables and floors so polished they could serve as mirrors. Shiny tools sat in rows on workbenches and hung from labeled hooks on the walls. Everything was so neat and organized, he had to swallow down the instinctive surge of bile in his throat. <em>It's not a lab,</em></span><span class="s1">he told himself. <em>It's not <strong>the</strong> lab.</em></span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And two? There was a gun on display in the center of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was compact and slim, glistening silver underneath the harsh lights. A sleek black silencer extended from its barrel, and a stock from its grip. Emblazoned on its sides was an angular violet symbol resembling a face. It sat suspended in a forcefield on a small podium, rotating mid-air.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Huh... I’ll be damned.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot hung back, wringing his hands. “I am... Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A weird, primitive-lookin’ gun’s better than no gun.” Rocket crouched at the base of the podium, prying off panels with his claws. “Help me with the wiring, wouldja? I wanna shut this forcefield down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot shifted his weight, but knelt down and did as Rocket suggested. Together, they pulled and cut wires until the forcefield flickered out. The gun hovered for a moment longer, then clattered down onto the podium. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“—and I will not —</span> <span class="s2"> oof! </span> <span class="s1">Careful, you fools!”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Groot flinched back, startled. Rocket’s head snapped up so fast it gave him a crick in the neck. “Who said that?”</span> <span class="s1"> he demanded. It took him a moment to follow Groot’s finger to the podium. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">          “...you are not the scientists,” said the gun. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh.” Rocket blinked, glancing at Groot. He received a bewildered shrug in reply. “No. And you’re no ordinary gun.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who are you?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Its voice was a rough, metallic rasp that made Rocket’s throat twinge in sympathy. “Could ask you the same.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The gun growled,</span> <span class="s1"> rocking in place on the podium. “An unwilling subject, trapped in this form thanks to these putrid beings.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’re... <em>not </em></span>
  <span class="s1">usually like this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No. But you haven’t answered my question: who are </span> <span class="s2">you?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another thud shook the walls. Rocket looked over his shoulder to see a new dent in the door. “Not these guys’ friends, that’s for sure,” he muttered. “Stupid flarkin’ Quinte-whats-its—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quintessons.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quintessons,” the gun repeated, slower and more exasperated. “Traders and arms dealers, specialized in—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Makin’ robot monsters and death machines, yeah. We know. ‘S why we’re here, to shut ‘em down and blow this place sky high. You one of ‘em?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One of what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Their machines.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gun went still on the podium. “I am not,” it hissed, “their <em>property. </em></span>
  <span class="s1">Nothing they say or do to me will change that!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A familiar ache shot through Rocket’s chest. He shoved it down, stepping back and raising his hands above his head. “Okay, okay. I get it. You didn’t ask for this an’ you’re stuck here. We </span> <span class="s2">could</span> <span class="s1"> help unstick ya from this mode—”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—but you want something in return.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“It depends on how much</span> <span class="s1">firepower you got as a gun. We’re not gettin’ through these things’ armor or whatever with ours. Can you get us outta here?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should be able to see for yourself... now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Giant hands wedged underneath the door. They jammed it up bit by bit, grinding it into the ceiling with the screech of metal. Rocket startled, then reacted on instinct. His instinct was to grab the nearest gun, whirl around, aim and pull the trigger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Violet light fired from its barrel, crackling out and striking a robot in the face. Half of its face disintegrated on impact, oozing molten metal. Then its head exploded, raining shrapnel on the other robots crowded nearby. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket’s pupils dilated. His fur bristled. Ears ringing, the scent of ozone and acrid plasma burned in his nostrils. Groot clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do we have a deal?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No-one spoke for a long moment. Then, Rocket’s lips peeled back in a feral grin. “Oh. Oh, <em>yeah."</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was their turn to charge through the halls. Groot held other robots at bay with lashing vines, giving Rocket time to take aim. He bounded from shoulder to shoulder, sometimes even perching on Groot’s head. The gun, meanwhile, moved with Rocket in a way no other had. It jerked its barrel up or down, correcting his already stellar aim. The result was many graying bodies littering the floor in their wake.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Flarkin’ hell!” Rocket laughed, adjusting his grip. “You’re the best damn gun I’ve ever seen!”</span>   </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You relish this!” the gun remarked, a note of surprise entering its tone. “You like battle and destruction?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When dealin’ with guys who pissed me off? Sure. And these robot things put themselves on my shit list.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They are called Allicons. But for a small organic, you are...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot?” Groot suggested, ducking into another room. He kicked a charging Allicon away from them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket rolled his eyes, shooting the Allicon in the chest. “Ha-ha. Real funny.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gun’s voice turned puzzled. “I... I don’t—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He said I’m ‘larger than life.’ Jerk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah. I was going to say ferocious. You are clearly a seasoned fighter, but you are one of few I’ve met that take pleasure in it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Eh.” Rocket slid down Groot’s arm, unclipping charges from his belt. “I dunno ‘bout </span> <span class="s2">that... </span> <span class="s1">but you gotta make the best of it, y’know? And I still like blowin’ shit up.” He paused in laying down charges in the corner of the room. “That bug ya?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gun shuddered against his palm in a dark chuckle. “Not at all. There is nothing like facing your enemies in the heat of battle, crushing them underfoot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket grinned. “See, Groot?” he called over his shoulder. “This guy gets it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Groot paused in smashing a console to shake his head in exasperation. “I am Groot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s ‘cause you’re no fun!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finished laying the charges and left the room. As Groot ran for the facility's exit, they found a crowd of Allicons blocking the double doors. Groot roared as he slammed Allicons away from them. Rocket clambered onto his head and opened fire. He laughed at the unfolding explosions and, between gunshots, the gun joined in. Its raspy laugh grew more and more feverish, which made Rocket laugh harder. Soon, they rained down violet hellfire to their maniacal cackling. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time the last Allicon fell, Rocket was breathless. He panted as Groot burst through the doors, sprinting into the open. The other Guardians stood in the distance, looking up at their approach. “There they are!” Gamora shouted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Charges are all set!” Rocket called down, leaping off Groot. They reached their team as more Allicons poured out and circled them. “You got the shit Nova wanted?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quill grimaced, charging his blasters. “The files and blueprints, yeah. But these assholes—” He paused, shooting over Rocket’s head. An aborted howl sounded somewhere behind them. “—won’t stay down!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aim for their necks!” Gamora yelled, rolling away from a fist smashing onto the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you think I’m doing?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Drax clung to one of the Allicons, his legs wrapped around its neck. He pummeled its head over and over again with his fists, bellowing an incoherent yell.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gun strained in Rocket’s hand. “Fix me, and I will finish this!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Groot! Cover me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket ducked behind his friend. He ran deft claws over the gun, finding and unwinding metal wire from seams he hadn’t noticed before. Picks from his belt pried locks and chains open. Everything fell to the dirt in a rattling heap. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quill almost tripped over his crouched teammate. “Hey! The hell are you—?” He looked down as Rocket turned the gun over in his hands, flashing the purple symbol on its side. His eyes widened. “...wh— Rocket, where’d you get <em>that?"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a good time, Quill!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, seriously! You don’t know what that is?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The thing that’s ‘bout to save our asses!” To the gun, Rocket declared, “Done!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put me down! <em>Now!"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At that raspy voice, Quill blanched. “Holy shit. No, wait, not here—!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Rocket dropped it. As it shuddered mid-air, Quill swung out a frantic boot and kicked it away. It flew several feet before skidding to a stop in the dirt. Rocket wheeled on him, fur bristling and hands balled into fists. “The hell was </span> <span class="s2">that </span> <span class="s1">for?!”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But Quill didn’t look at him, instead staring into the distance. “Oh, god. I <em>kicked</em></span> <span class="s1">him. I’m dead.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kicked—?” Rocket followed his gaze. He froze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gun twisted in the dirt. Its grip split apart into stocky legs and feet. Arms unfurled and the sides of the gun became a broad chest. A helmeted head and neck rose up, attaching at the top of the chest. Most of all, metal plates unfolded. They expanded and expanded and didn’t stop. A long shadow spilled over the battlefield. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">          At that, the fighting ground to a halt. Everyone craned their necks, staring up into chiseled faceplates and burning red eyes. “Vengeance will be mine!” the silver mech thundered, raising a fist. “For I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quill’s expression twisted into something caught between awe and terror. “Damn right he is,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket rounded on him, eyes bugging out of his skull. “You — you knew?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You <em>didn't?"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How was I supposed to know a gun could turn into that?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“How’d you not know about</span> <span class="s2"> Transformers?!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do! I just — rrgh!” Rocket broke off a snarl, tugging on his ears. “They’re super far out in the galaxy! I didn’t think one’d be here, an’ I can’t be flarked to remember all their faction symbols! And I didn’t think they’d break the laws of <em>fuckin' physics!"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">  </span> <span class="s1"> As they argued, Megatron fired his fusion cannon. The blast plowed swathes through the ground and incinerated most of the Allicons. Others turned and fled, trying to regroup. Megatron lowered his cannon and allowed them to retreat — for now. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned his glare on the Guardians. Quill made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uh... sorry for, um, kicking you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Megatron narrowed his eyes. “Normally, I would squash someone who had done such a thing to me,” he growled. The sound reverberated in Rocket’s bones.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quill paled, then stared at Drax. “Why’re you nodding like he’s right?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because it is a matter of restoring honor!” he protested. “I would do the same!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gamora stepped between both of them. “You said ‘normally,’ Lord Megatron. Do you mean this time is different from the others?” she asked, her voice level and calm.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“An organic with manners! Yes, I do.” Megatron dropped to one knee, sending tremors through the ground. Rocket found himself the focus of that intense gaze. "</span><span class="s2">You. </span> <span class="s1">You set me free and allowed me to wreak vengeance on the blasted Quintessons. And... I enjoyed doing so beside a capable fighter. As repayment of this debt, I will spare your lives.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rocket swallowed hard. Gamora nudged him, and he managed a respectful nod. “Gotcha. An’ for what it’s worth... I‘m glad I got to shoot with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As did I.” </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Megatron stood again, drawing himself to his full height. He turned on his massive heel and stomped in the direction the remaining Allicons had fled. The Guardians began their quiet walk back to the Milano. Then, something occurred to Rocket. He worried at his bottom lip for a moment, tail swishing in thought. <em>Aw, what the hell,</em></span> <span class="s1">he decided. <em>I'm already in this</em> deep.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey! Wait a sec!” he hollered, breaking from his team. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rocket?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am Groot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is an unwise—!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At his shout, Megatron turned around. Rocket dug around on his belt and pulled out a small black box. He waved it over his head, making sure Megatron spotted it. Then he pressed its red button. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The charges laid in the facility detonated. An explosion tore through its walls, the rippling shockwave shattering them into rubble. The fireball roared from its roof and billowed into the sky as a mushroom cloud, bright and terrible. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">          Megatron watched the rising fireball, orange light flickering over his silver features and reflected in his eyes. After a long moment, he looked back over. A maniacal grin split his face in two. And before his team dragged him away, Rocket grinned back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This mini-crossover came from the author thinking at 1 AM, "Rocket likes guns and... wait. Megatron's a gun!" It's not set at any specific point in either canon, since Groot is alive and fully grown here while the Guardians do favors for Nova. Megatron also never encountered any such creations of the Quintessons while he was... well, Megatron and not Galvatron. It's just messing around in a sort of canon-neutral space, if that makes any sense.</p><p>The Allicons are from the 1986 movie for the G1 Transformers cartoon. I thought their designs were colorful and bizarre enough to fit into the "unapologetically weird" aesthetic of the Guardians' films. Rocket's comment about breaking the laws of physics is also a reference to the crazy mass-shifting needed for a tiny gun to turn into Megatron. (I realized that Megatron, as a gun, is usually wielded by other Transformers... but also of different sizes, and he was used by a human once in the Marvel comics. I thus concluded that scale is dead and allowed Rocket to be able to hold him.)</p><p>Comments, kudos and constructive criticism are welcome! Thank you for reading this strange little fic, and I hope you have a lovely day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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